You made me, but why so incomplete? Why these fantasies about the street? Concrete dreaming, but it's too damn close. If I could skirt the guess work, GOD only knows.
By Woah Isme4 years ago in Poets
It starts with a flash, a vision, a thought. The jump, the fall, the cut, the crash, once fleeting now it fucking lasts.
By Woah Isme4 years ago in Confessions
